


As Adam, Early in the Morning

by perilit



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Caretaking, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perilit/pseuds/perilit
Summary: Hosea's hands aren't steady enough to shave, some days. Dutch doesn't mind.
Relationships: Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 18
Kudos: 57





	As Adam, Early in the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a wonderful thread from @hoseasfreckles on Twitter, which started with, "As he gets older, Hosea's hands shake too much to shave, so Dutch does it for him."
> 
> I hope I did it justice. This is short n' sweet indulgent comfort, folks.

Horseshoe Overlook is quiet in the morning.

Dutch is sitting outside of the tent, book in hand, when there’s suddenly muffled cursing and a hiss of pain from the man on the other side of the canvas wall. 

Standing, Dutch pushes open the flap of the tent. Hosea’s sitting with a cloth pressed to his jaw, straight razor abandoned on the table.

Dutch raises an eyebrow. “Easy. You’re gonna start looking like John if you’re not careful.” 

Hosea chuckles, but it’s an unhappy sound. He drops the cloth, and his hands fall into his lap. He doesn’t move to pick up the razor again, despite the fact that he’s only shaved a tiny patch.

Dutch’s humor evaporates. He steps inside, shutting the flap behind him. He looks at Hosea carefully.

Hosea huffs, the lines of his body tense and upset. 

“Hands won't stay steady enough to even shave my own damn face.” he spits.

Dutch stays quiet for a second, eyes catching on the way Hosea’s vest is buttoned one hole off. 

He’s no fool. Neither of them is getting younger, and he’s picked up on the ways Hosea’s body has changed. His joints lock up in the cold, rendering him unable to do up small buttons or pull the trigger of a pistol. His lungs rattle even in good weather, now. 

Hosea's hands look motionless where they’re resting in his lap, but Dutch has a suspicion that they’d start trembling if he flexed them. 

Hosea scowls when he sees Dutch looking.“I know I'm a sad old fool. No need to rub it in.” 

Dutch furrows his brow at the vitriol in Hosea’s voice, clearly not directed at Dutch, but at Hosea himself. 

“ _Mijn hart_ ,” Dutch starts slowly, moving to stand in front of Hosea and capturing the man’s hands in his own. “When did this start?”

Hosea shrugs, silent until Dutch prompts him with a gentle nudge. “...Few days ago. Wasn’t...this bad.” he mutters.

Dutch strokes his thumbs over Hosea’s hands, stopping when Hosea lets out a quiet, pained noise through his teeth as Dutch presses over a nerve. 

“‘sea...” Dutch murmurs. 

Hosea drops his gaze, refusing to look at Dutch even when Dutch tips his chin up with a gentle finger. “...pathetic,” he whispers, voice barely audible.

“You’re not pathetic,” Dutch says, stroking softly along the length of Hosea’s jaw, careful to avoid the shallow cut. “I could...shave it for you," he murmurs, fingers trailing over the shell of Hosea's ear. 

Hosea inhales shakily through his nose, and when he lifts his eyes to Dutch, they’re glossy, his mouth set in an angry line. 

“I just-” Hosea’s voice breaks, and he swallows with a frustrated huff.

“I don’t mind.” Dutch keeps his voice gentle, lifting one of Hosea’s hands up gently to press a featherlight kiss to the palm. 

Hosea blinks, one of the tears breaking free of his lower lashline. Dutch catches it with his thumb. 

“Okay.” Hosea whispers. 

Dutch feels a surge of warmth in his chest. He picks up the brush and lathers it in the bowl again, stroking it gently over Hosea’s face and neck. Hosea sighs quietly, his eyes closing, tipping his head back slightly. _Another show of trust._

Dutch has to refrain from planting a kiss on Hosea’s lips, sure that it would only end in a shaving-lather-covered-mess. Instead, he picks up the razor, wiping it clean with the cloth from the table. 

“Ready? “ he asks softly. 

Hosea hums. 

* * *

  
  
  


_Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass,_

_Be not afraid of my body._

  
  



End file.
